


The Pack Survives

by NotInPublic



Series: Prompts [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Non-Explicit, Season/Series 06 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotInPublic/pseuds/NotInPublic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon confronts Sansa about her conversation with Littlefinger. She sets him straight.<br/>Written for the prompt: How about…. they meet in the Godswood after that creepy scene with Littlefinger and Sansa tells Jon about what LF said to her. She then says she has no desire to sit beside anyone but him.if you wanna go smutty, I’m totally here for some up-against-the-weirwood-tree action, but also happy with just UST/ platonic interaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pack Survives

**Author's Note:**

> I almost got VERY carried away writing this one and had to keep reminding myself that I was writing it on a bus and that there were people sitting around me! Anyway, I hope you like it and all comments are welcome!
> 
> I'm also currently accepting prompts on tumblr: not-in-public

Sansa waited until Littlefinger had disappeared up toward the gates of Winterfell before turning back to the Godswood.

He was waiting for her. She knew he would be. After all, he had barely let out his sight since she'd arrived at Castle Black, as if she'd disappear the second he looked away.

"How much did you hear?" She asked, not bothering to ask why he was there or how he'd hidden himself from view. 

"Enough to know that we were right" he replied "his eyes are on the iron throne..." he paused, something in his posture and facial expression tensed "amongst other things." 

Their eyes met and although he tried to hide it- to rearrange his expression, she had already seen. Fury blazed within him. Not for the fact that Littlefinger wanted the throne, no. But because he wanted her. He wanted Sansa.

She could see the challenge in his eyes and... Was that fear?

"He won't get them" she replied, her tone firm whilst trying to soothe the concern from the crease between his eyes and the hard set of his shoulders. Caution was written all over his face. He's learning, she thought, learning not to trust blindly. Good.

"He won't get me" she reiterated taking a step towards him, relishing in the feeling of the snow crunching beneath her feet. Winter had come and she was home.

"He has power Sansa and he won't stop until he gets what he wants." Jon's gaze intensified as he said it.

"True enough" she conceded. Littlefinger had wanted her mother to such lengths that not even death had stopped him. He wanted power so much that he had used the daughter of the woman he loved to gain it. "He's a snake" she spat and Jon's shoulders relaxed some of their tension "but he's surrounded by wolves now and knows that together, we could eat him alive. That makes us dangerous to him. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. I learnt that the hard way, we both did.” She said, her eyes darkening.

"We did" Jon agreed and for a second, Sansa caught a glimpse of the ghosts that lived behind his eyes. She wondered if she had them, too.

"I will never make that mistake again. We belong together Jon, my place is by your side from this day until my last day." She closed the gap between them as she spoke, clasping one of his hands and tilting his head upwards towards her own. "The Starks have taken back Winterfell, together. Any decisions to be made, we will make together and in doing so, will make each other strong. You're my pack and we will survive this winter."

Jon smiled at that, his beautiful smile that Sansa loved. 

When he smiled like that, the lines on his face seemed to disappear and he looked young again. His smile reminded her of childhood, of games and watching her brothers fight one another. Back when fighting was for boys, a game. It reminded her of petty squabbles with her little sister. Back when their world rarely extended past the castle gates and she knew wholly that she was safe and loved.

That smile made her feel that way again. She smiled too. 

“Together” he nodded “and Littlefinger? What do you suggest we do with him?”

"He can return to the Vale” She said flippantly “we will have enough support from the northern Lords without his”.

“You think he’ll leave quietly? Something tells me that’s not his game. He could be against us as easily as he could be with us” Jon replied, caution seeping back into his expression.

“Then feed him to Ghost for all I care.” Sansa rolled her eyes, throwing her arms out to her sides. 

“He’d probably taste like slimy old boot leather” Jon replied with a dark laugh, taking her lead to drop the serious talk- for now.

“All gristly” Sansa added, laughing with him. It was infectious and their laughter grew, bubbling up between them. It felt so good to laugh again.

Jon took a couple of paces backwards, looking up to the leaves of the Weirwood with a smile. Spurred on by their joke, a wicked thought came to her. Crouching slowly to the ground, she scooped up a handful of snow. She shaped it carefully.

With a flick of her wrist, the snowball arched though the air and hit him square between the shoulder blades. When he span around, the look of surprise on his face was priceless.

Instantly, the stillness of the clearing was shattered. Resumed laughter filled the space between the trees as she bolted to hide behind the Weirwood and he took up the chase.

A snowball missed her left ear by inches as her head disappeared behind the tree, giggles spilling uncontrollably from her now. She felt alive, reckless, this was what games were supposed to be like.

Gathering snow in her hands once more, she peeked out from her hiding place long enough to aim another shot at him. This time, it caught his shoulder and she grinned before disappearing again.

He was quiet, too quiet. The snow muffled his footsteps as he drew closer and her heartbeat quickened. Anticipation flooded her and her stomach squirmed happily.  
Suddenly he was there, holding her wrists above her head and pressing her against the tree with his body. The world disappeared and was everything.

Gods he was beautiful. How many men had he killed, a hundred? More? He bore the weight of those deaths on his shoulders, knew their price and yet he was still so full of life, of strength. And gods he was beautiful. 

"Attacking someone when their back is turned Lady Stark?" He growled quietly into her ear and she could hear the smile on his face, feel it in the way he held his body.  
"Is the greatest swordsman in the land ashamed to have been bettered by a girl?" She feigned struggle against the hand restraining her by pressing against him, her lips twitching into a grin. 

"I'm not the one up against a tree" he said simply. There it was- the wolf in his eyes, in his grin. He had her and he knew it.

Everything seemed to slow down. Jon’s face became serious as he stared into her eyes, his gaze drifting towards her lips. Her heart quickened and she had time for the smallest gasp of breath as her arms were released to fall down by her sides and Jon’s lips were on hers.

Jon’s lips were on hers and it was wonderful. Her hands came to rest beneath his cloak, drawing him closer as his hands tangled into her hair. 

She didn't question it. Questions were for later. For now all that existed was Jon, all that mattered was Jon. They were home. Nothing could touch them here, they were safe. They were together.

Their breaths came in pants as their kiss deepened. She had never been kissed like this, never felt as wanted as she did in that moment.

Sansa’s leg snaked around the back of Jon’s, drawing him impossibly close. She could feel his arousal pressing against her and could feel her own pooling beneath her clothes. 

Jon pulled away sharply and they both stared at one another, their breaths heavy and quick.

“Not here” he whispered and Sansa was shocked to realise that her hands had travelled beneath his clothes, trying to remove the layers separating them “We’d catch our deaths of cold.”

Reluctantly she withdrew her hands from him, trying to centre her thoughts which at that moment were full of questions; why did you stop? Why are you talking? Can we carry on now? She shook her head and looked around them at the ever deepening snow. It was growing dark around them.

“No, not here” she agreed, her head was clearing from his hedonistic daze but her body still clung to his with need “where?”

“The Lords Chamber is large enough for two” he mused, a grin playing about his lips “I see no reason for either of us to sleep there cold and alone, do you?”

“No reason at all” She agreed and smiled broadly as Jon took her hand and together they ran back towards Winterfell.


End file.
